


Protective Measures

by wig_powder



Category: Forever (TV 2014)
Genre: Allergies, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 22:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21143990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wig_powder/pseuds/wig_powder
Summary: Jo attempts to learn more about Henry by using his own tricks on him. However, most of the quirks he displays are involuntary ones. Still, that can be revealing in its own way...





	Protective Measures

Ever since she’d first fallen into her strange little partnership with Henry Morgan, Jo Martinez had started taking more notice of the things around her. Henry’s unusual ability to spot little details seemed like a useful skill to have, and she did her best to observe, trying to pick up on things. Since this wasn’t something you could develop all at once, she decided to start small, focusing on body language and facial expressions. Whenever she questioned a suspect, she would glance at their hands, posture, and face, looking for signs of nerves or guilt. She wasn’t perfect at it, but at least she was starting to figure out without prompting whenever anyone had something to hide.

Naturally, this new hobby extended into examining her friends and co-workers as well. Hanson was sort of hard to pin down, since he could get pretty antsy and was often moving about anyway. Lieutenant Reece had an expert poker face, so there wasn’t much she could get out of her, either. And as for Henry, well, someone so good at spotting tells in people would have carefully practiced showing none himself, so she didn’t expect to make any headway there. She’d stick to Lucas instead, since the man was practically an open book.

Then again, fate sometimes has a way of surprising you…

***

“What do we have here?” Henry said, taking a cursory sweep of the body.

“Fairly straightforward, at least on the surface,” Jo said, “Victim, Tyla Horne, was home alone, someone broke in to rob the place, there was a scuffle, and she was killed. We’re mostly hoping you can find a lead to track down who did it.”

Henry nodded and stepped into the morgue proper. “All right. Lucas, let’s take a…”

He paused, grimacing and waving his hand in front of his face. “Good Lord. Well, I can already tell that at some point during the scuffle, she broke a bottle of perfume.”

“Yep,” Jo said, “We found her among the remnants of a vanity table. There were bottles and jars scattered everywhere. If you think it’s bad now, be glad you weren’t at the scene. The air positively reeked of perfume.”

Henry looked less than thrilled about having to deal with that, and Jo couldn’t blame him; a little perfume was all well and good, but too much and it felt like you were suffocating. Hell, she could smell the perfume from the far side of the room. She couldn’t imagine how bad it would be when Henry had to get close to the body.

Still, he was keeping his dry sense of humor intact. “On second thought, Lucas, fetch a couple of face masks first. Maybe that can filter in a bit of fresh air.”

After slipping on the masks, Henry took a deep breath and dove in to the autopsy. And for a while, it was the usual routine. Henry made observations, Lucas wrote them down, and Jo asked questions. Then, midway through an examination of Tyla’s hands, Henry paused mid-discussion. Both Jo and Lucas looked over at him in surprise; normally once Henry got going, it was practically impossible to shut him up. Henry seemed frozen in place, eyes blinking rapidly. “Henry?” Jo said tentatively, “You all right?”

Instead of answering, Henry’s entire body tensed up. “_Ngkt!_”

A second later, he relaxed, and then Jo heard the unmistakable sound of a sniff. “Did you just…sneeze?” she asked.

“I’m afraid the perfume is proving too much for my nose,” Henry said apologetically, “I’ve been trying to keep that one at bay for the past five minutes, and now they're going to be almost impossible to stop. I apologize in advance for the interruptions.”

Jo had to bite back a laugh. That was just like Henry, to be more concerned about not getting his point across than about his allergy problems. “It’s fine,” she said, “But are you sure you want to do this? If it’s causing you trouble, you could leave it to Lucas.”

“No, no,” Henry waved a hand, “I’ll be fine. Another few minutes, and we should be finished. Then the body can be washed off, and I won’t have to deal with…” he trailed off just a second before tensing up again. “_Knnkt!_”

“Bless you,” Lucas said, “You _sure _you don’t want me to handle this, Doc?”

“Very sure,” Henry said, “Let’s just get through this.”

He returned to the body, making his observations, only now they were punctuated every thirty seconds or so by a sneeze. Jo couldn’t see his face thanks to the mask, but it didn’t take Henry’s level of deduction to know that he was clenching his teeth to stifle the sneezes, rather than letting them loose to spray the mask and possibly make a mess of things. It might have been useful for that purpose, but the constant stifling was just causing Henry’s voice to sound more and more blocked, so that by the time he stepped away from the body, the phrase “nothing out of the ordinary” sounded like he had spoken through a plastic wall, underwater, and through an oxygen valve to boot. He sniffed again, much louder and longer than previously, and his hands twitched as though he were desperate to rub at his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said, blinking a few times, “That perfume’s impacted me more than I thought. Lucas, would you mind finishing the cleanup and washing down the body? I need to go home and…and change…” His head tilted upwards for just a moment, and then he tensed up once more. “_Nnxxt!_”

“Bless you.” Lucas and Jo said at the same time, both with equal amounts of concern.

Henry quickly peeled off his gloves and took off the mask, disposing of them in the trash as he passed by Jo. “I should be back in about an hour,” he said, “Then we can meet in your office to discuss things. I’ll want to let the morgue air out a bit more.”

After taking a second to decipher his words, Jo nodded. Henry slipped through the door and vanished from sight, and Jo had to debate whether she should go after him to make sure he was all right. Then she shrugged. This was Henry; he knew his limits. If he said he’d be all right, she was willing to trust him on that. Still, she couldn’t help but glance at the elevator as she walked out of the morgue a few minutes later. Hopefully being in an enclosed space hadn’t make the lingering perfume worse for him.

While she waited for Henry to return, she went to her desk and started inputting all the information he’d given her into the computer, looking for possible leads. But without Henry there to bounce ideas off of, she was finished in fifteen minutes, and didn’t have much else to do but wait. Not wanting to let her mind wander too much, she turned her thoughts to the display she’d seen in the morgue. What, if anything, could that tell her about Henry?

She grinned a little as the answer came to her. Henry stifled because he didn’t want anything to get in the way of his work. He needed his hands free to keep looking over the bodies, he kept his mouth shut to prevent spray from contaminating the area, and the tensing was probably to keep himself from pitching forward and causing damage to himself or the body. Yes, it was very like him, all things considered.

“Detective?”

Jo jumped and looked up. Henry was back, his hair damp; obviously he’d taken a shower to try to get the scent of perfume off his skin. He was looking at her curiously. “You seemed lost in thought, Detective. Did you find something troubling?”

“Oh, no,” Jo answered, smiling faintly, “I was just…trying to put things together. Now that you’re here, it’ll be a bit easier. Here, let me show you what I’ve got…”

***

For a few weeks, that was the end of it. Jo contented herself with the knowledge that she had managed to find _something_ she could deduce about Henry, and put it aside to focus on her actual job. She still liked to try to “investigate” him from time to time, but she was happy for her little tidbit.

But then they ran across a case where all the evidence pointed to a botanist who worked in a greenhouse a few blocks from the crime scene. When they finally caught up with Mr. Colak, he was in the aforementioned greenhouse, watering and pruning the mass of flowers that filled the place. “I’m afraid I’m the victim of a frame-up,” he said, snipping off a twig, “It’s obvious that someone is jealous of my horticultural skills, and wish to get rid of me indirectly.”

“Possibly,” Jo said, exchanging a glance with Henry, “But I do need to ask you the routine questions, for formality’s sake.”

“Oh, very well,” Colak sighed, turning to face her, “What do you want to know?”

As Jo asked him about his whereabouts the night of the murder, Henry remained silent, glancing around. Jo assumed he was just looking for evidence, as usual. But when Colak gestured expressively and Jo turned her head to follow his hand, she was surprised to see an unfocused look in Henry’s eyes. It wasn’t the stunned look he got when he made a realization (another thing Jo had eventually managed to pick up on), it was a look that said he was having some sort of trouble. Sure enough, a moment later his eyes fluttered closed, and his brought his fist up to his face, pressing his nose against the back of his hand. “_Tich! Chh! Chh!_”

Jo blinked. That was quite possibly the smallest set of sneezes she had ever heard in her life, and despite his sometimes aristocratic manner, Jo hadn’t thought Henry was capable of making such noises. But more than that, it completely destroyed her theory. Small as they were, those sneezes weren’t stifles. And his body hadn’t tensed in the same way before the sneezes struck. It was as if he’d changed up his entire sneezing style, just to throw her off balance.

“God bless you,” Colak said, snapping Jo out of her (ridiculous) train of thought, “Are you all right there?”

“Yes, thank you,” Henry said with a light sniff, rubbing at his nose, “I’m afraid I’m one of those unfortunate souls who suffers from a touch of hayfever.”

“Hard luck,” Colak said, a note of sympathy creeping into his haughty tone, “If you would rather continue this discussion outside…”

“It’s not necessary.” Henry said, smiling. Jo barely caught the sly glance he gave her before he continued, “As I am in the medical profession, I made a careful study of my allergies. What I discovered was that I’m particularly sensitive to the pollen from orchids.”

He turned and moved over to a long table, where several admittedly gorgeous flowers were sitting. Stopping at a vibrant purple plant, he bent down and breathed in right from the center of the flower. “Henry, what are you…” Jo began, then stopped herself. Knowing Henry, he had a reason for this.

Henry had barely raised his head from the flower when his hand was back against his nose. “_Tchi! Chh! Chh!_”

His shoulders rose and tightened with each sneeze, though most of his body remained still. “If you have allergies, what in God’s name did you do that for?” Colak demanded.

“I just needed to make sure it was the right plant,” Henry answered mildly, “You see, when I was examining the body of Mr. Hickman, I caught a scent of pollen, and I felt an itch I only get when confronted with orchids. This plant,” he indicated the flowers beside him, “Gave me both the same scent and the same reaction.” He looked Colak square in the face. “You met Mr. Hickman that night. Unless another botanist in this area grows hybrid orchids, which we have been informed is not the case.”

Colak opened and closed his mouth a few times, apparently at a loss for words. Jo stepped forward, taking charge. “I think we should go down to the station to ask a few more questions, don’t you?”

As she led Colak out of the greenhouse, she could hear Henry sneeze again, the sound a little wetter but still absurdly tiny. She shook her head slightly. Maybe they were getting closer to solving one mystery, but Henry’s little performance had just given her another one to deal with.

***

Jo puzzled over Henry’s different sneezes for quite a while, trying to draw some sort of connection to the two. They just seemed so very _different_, with the only commonality being the volume. Finally, she concluded that the sneezes she’d heard in the greenhouse were Henry’s “real” sneeze, and that the stifling she’d witnessed before was only due to the fact that he was performing an autopsy at the time. After all, no one in their right mind would press their hand to their nose while they were in the process of digging through a body, and there was the whole “contamination” thing to worry about.

Then, after a month that she would forever after refer to as “The month Henry lost his damned mind”, Henry finally told her everything. It was…difficult to believe at first, but Abe backed the story up, and there was a fair bit of photographic evidence besides. The idea of Henry being immortal still seemed unbelievable, but it certainly explained a lot, and Jo had always been open to different ideas. Besides, Henry was still frazzled after everything that had been happening to him; if nothing else, Jo wanted to be there for her friend, regardless of any supernatural goings-on.

Shortly after Henry’s confession, he disappeared from work. When Lucas told her that, Jo was afraid the anxiety had been too much for him, and he’d run off to start life anew somewhere else. But Abe answered the phone when she called, much to her relief. “No, he’s not going anywhere,” he said, once Jo tentatively asked if Henry had gone, “I’ll make sure of that. He’s just sick, that’s all. All that emotional upheaval finally caught up with him, I guess.”

“Would he…would he appreciate visitors?”

“Sorry, Jo,” Abe said, voice tinged with regret and sympathy, “I don’t think he’s up for visitors at the moment. Nothing personal, he just…has a lot to work through at the moment.”

“I know the feeling,” Jo said, touching the spot where her wedding ring used to hang, “Will you at least tell him I hope he feels better soon?”

“Of course.” Abe assured her. She thanked him and hung up, trying to put Henry out of her mind for now. Some distance and time to process everything might be exactly what she needed too, actually.

Still, she popped into the morgue every day, to check if Henry was back yet. Four days after talking with Abe, she had just stuck her head in the door when Lucas raised his head from his clipboard. Without a word, he grinned and jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards Henry’s office. “Thanks, Lucas.” she said, crossing the room quickly and knocking on the door.

“Come in.” Henry said softly, and Jo hesitated at how tired he sounded. But they would need to talk eventually, if only in an official capacity, and the sooner they pushed through the awkwardness, the better. So she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Henry looked terrible. He’d clearly only done a cursory brush of his hair, which looked frizzed and tangled even from a distance. While he was wearing his lab coat, he hadn’t removed his scarf, and it was wrapped tightly around his throat to keep every scrap of heat in. His face was pale, there were heavy bags under his eyes, and his nose was a bright, bright pink. “Hello, Detective,” he said, meeting her eyes briefly before returning to the folder in front of him, “Forgive me for not getting up, but my energy’s at a particularly low ebb right now.”

“Henry…” Jo said, sitting across from him, “Are you sure you’re well enough to work?”

“I didn’t have a fever when I woke up this morning,” Henry said, still engrossed in the file, “And I figured I should come in to go through my paperwork, at least.”

Jo glanced over her shoulder to make sure the door was securely closed. “Listen, Henry, about everything you told me last week. I…”

Henry held up a hand, which was trembling slightly. Initially annoyed that Henry was retreating into himself _again_, Jo’s irritation gave way to sympathy when Henry drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it just in front of his face. “_Heh…hih…hih-kitch!_”

Even through her worry, Jo couldn’t help but note that it was another new way of sneezing for him, although the quietness remained the same. “Bless you,” she said gently, “Henry, you don’t look well at all. I don’t think you’re up for working, even if you just sit at your desk all day.”

“I can manage,” Henry insisted, rubbing carefully at his nose, “Besides, I need a distraction.”

“No,” Jo said, firmly and sharply enough that Henry finally looked over at her in surprise, “You don’t. We need to hash this out, here and now. If you’re afraid of what I’m going to do now that you’ve told me, don’t be. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t deny that I’m still a little unsure what to think about all this, but I’m willing to try to understand it. But that depends on you. You were brave enough to tell me, now have the damn guts to follow through.”

Henry stared at her, blinking rapidly. Then his eyes glazed over and he lifted the handkerchief to his face again. “_Hih…ihh…it-chh!_”

As he lowered the handkerchief, Jo saw his shoulders quivering. Immediately, she was up on her feet and came around the desk, placing a hand on Henry’s forehead before he could utter a word of protest. “Well, if you didn’t have a fever this morning, you certainly have one now. You need to get back home before you have a full on relapse.”

Henry sighed heavily. “You’re right. I just wanted things to return to normal.”

“Nothing’s ever ‘normal’ with you around, Henry,” Jo said, tugging at his arm, “Come on, change your coat, I’m driving you home.”

“That’s not necessary,” Henry protested, “You must have more important things to do.”

“Nope. I’ve got nothing on my plate at the moment. Besides, how are you getting home? Walking, when the forecast calls for rain? Taking a cab that’s been used by who knows how many other sick people? Waiting around for Abe at the risk of passing out at your desk? No, it’s quicker and easier if I drive you. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

“Very well,” Henry said, getting slowly to his feet, “I concede defeat. Just give me a moment.”

“A moment” wound up translating to five minutes, since Henry’s fever caused him to move more slowly, and his hands kept fumbling with the buttons on his coat. It didn’t help that he had to stop every minute or so to sneeze, which seemed to leave him stunned for several seconds. Watching him, Jo felt oddly protective. For a doctor and a man with two centuries of life experience, Henry just seemed utterly lost right now.

After giving a few instructions to Lucas, Henry finally allowed Jo to lead him out of the morgue, refusing to let her put her arm around his shoulders but at least accepting it when she caught his wrist and practically dragged him down the stairs to the parking lot. It wasn’t wise to talk while they were out in the open, but they had the whole drive to Abe’s to talk. Jo glanced at Henry reassuringly, only to find him pressing the handkerchief to his face, eyes closed. “_Ihh…ehh…Eh-pshh!_”

“Bless you,” Jo sighed, “If this turns into bronchitis or pneumonia, Henry, I will not be happy.”

“It shouldn’t come to that,” Henry said, sniffling, “Maybe I’ll be laid up in bed for longer than I’d intended, but I should be fine. I can take care of myself.”

Based on what she’d seen so far, Jo wasn’t so sure about that. “What’s that saying? ‘Doctors make the worst patients?’”

Henry chuckled hoarsely. “There’s truth in that. I guess I’ve always had a tendency to work through my illnesses. There’s so much to learn, so much I can do.”

Jo shook her head and opened the car door for him. “Maybe so, but I don’t care if it doesn’t matter in the long run to you, you need to take better care of yourself.”

Henry flinched at the oblique implication. Jo rested a hand on his shoulder. “Just relax, ok, Henry? You confided in me, albeit reluctantly, and I’m not going to betray that confidence. Besides, Reece would have my head if I let our best M.E. work himself into exhaustion.”

At least he smiled at that. Jo closed the door and got into the car herself. By the time she started the engine, Henry had rested his head against the windowpane, eyes closed, one arm wrapped around himself, the other resting in his lap, clutching his handkerchief. He looked miserable, and Jo’s protective streak reared up again. “Just hang in there, Henry,” she said, “You’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.”

They were silent for most of the drive, apart from Henry’s sneezing. Surprisingly, he was the one to break the silence as they waited at a red light. “Thank you, Jo.”

“It’s nothing,” she said, “As I said, I didn’t have anything to…”

“No, I mean…thank you for everything. I know I can’t have been easy to work with. Avoiding social interactions, keeping secrets from you, acting standoffish and cold. At the time, it seemed like the safest course of action. The fewer people I interacted with, the fewer people who could figure me out, who could chase me off.” He swallowed, his voice wobbling dangerously as he added “Who could hurt me.”

“Oh, Henry…” Jo said, reaching out to touch him. As her hand brushed his knee, the floodgates opened, and Henry turned his face away from her, curling in on himself as best as the seatbelt would allow. The light changed, and Jo returned her hands to the wheel, deliberately keeping her eyes on the road, but very attuned to the quiet sobs coming from the passenger seat.

He was still crying when she finally pulled up across from Abe’s Antiques. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she reached over and undid his as well. “Come here.” she said softly, tugging him forward. Henry didn’t even put up a token resistance, allowing her to guide his head to her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, gently worrying at any tangles she found. “It’s ok, Henry,” she murmured, “Just let it all out. Better to do it now then get Abe all worked up too.”

He let out a sort of half-laugh, half-sob, hand coming up to wipe at his eyes. A moment later, he had to press the handkerchief to his face again. “_Ehh…ahh…ah-tchh!_”

He made a small noise as he lowered the cloth, and it took Jo a second to realize he had honest to God whimpered. She started rubbing his back with her other hand, taking long, slow strokes. “_Shh, shhh…_” she soothed. She had no idea how this was coming so naturally to her; maybe it was true what they said about an inherent mothering instinct.

They stayed like that for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Even when Henry’s sobs quieted, he seemed loathe to get up, and Jo wasn’t about to move unless he was ready. She stroked his hair, surreptitiously checking his forehead. He definitely had a fever, but it didn’t seem particularly high at the moment. As long as he didn’t start shivering violently, she was willing to sit there for however long he needed.

At last, Henry sniffed sharply and pushed himself away from her, handkerchief cupped over his face. “_Ah…hah…hah-tish!_”

“Bless you,” Jo said, placing a hand to his back to steady him, “How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” Henry said hoarsely, wiping at his face, “But…” he looked at her shyly, “Much less awful than I felt an hour ago.”

Jo smiled. “That’s something, at least. Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

Abe looked very much like he wanted to read Henry the riot act for getting out of bed, but one look at the tear tracks on Henry’s face stopped him cold. Instead, he put his arm around Henry’s shoulders, and with Jo’s help, got him up the stairs. While Henry changed for bed, Jo waited in their living room, looking at the books lining the shelves. There weren’t any novels, just a lot of non-fiction, from medical history to philosophy. She wondered how long it had taken Henry to read through all of it.

“Jo?” Abe said, jerking his thumb into the bedroom, “He wants to see you. By my calculations, you got about ten minutes before the decongestant knocks him out.”

“Thanks, Abe.” she said, nodding to him before entering the bedroom.

Henry had pulled the blankets up to his neck, though she could see that he was still wearing his scarf. She sat down beside the bed. “What is it, Henry?”

“I…” he paused, sighed, tried again. “I was wondering if, once I’ve kicked this cold or whatever it is, if you’d like to come round for dinner sometime. That way, the three of us can talk in more detail, try to figure out where we stand.”

She smiled. “I’d love to, Henry. Next time I see you at the morgue, we can make arrangements. Ok?”

Henry nodded, smiling back hesitantly. Then he got that look in his eyes again, and he placed a fresh handkerchief to his face. “_Hah…heh…Hepshh!_”

“Bless you.” Jo got to her feet. “I’ll let you rest. Get well soon, Henry.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Henry promised, leaning back into his pillow and closing his eyes. Jo crept out of the room as quietly as she could, closing the door behind her.

Abe was back in the shop when she came downstairs. “You take care of him, Abe. He really needs it.”

“I know,” he said, glancing up at the ceiling, “But from what I saw, I think half the battle’s already been won.” Then he shooed Jo out. “I won’t keep New York’s finest any more than I have to. Go on, fight crime or something.”

She was driving back to the precinct, turning it all over in her head, when something finally clicked for her. She’d had the right idea about Henry’s sneezes, but she’d been looking at it from the wrong perspective. The styles might be different, but they all had one thing in common; Henry was trying to keep them quiet. As he’d said, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. A quiet, unobtrusive sneeze meant no one would be looking his way, scrutinizing him too closely. Now that she thought about it, it suited him perfectly.

Chuckling to herself, she pulled into the parking lot. “I’ll figure you out yet, Henry Morgan,” she said, “It’s just a matter of time.” And while she might not have the same luxury of time that Henry did, she was more than willing to put in that effort.


End file.
